


Leftovers

by CeleritasSagittae



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, King Alistair, One-Sided Relationship, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 16:34:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19213285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeleritasSagittae/pseuds/CeleritasSagittae
Summary: Alistair is quite used to their flavor.





	Leftovers

The best meal Alistair had as a child was when the king visited Redcliffe.  Cook had spent weeks fattening up the geese, the fishers had all outdone themselves bringing in the best catch, and there was a wild boar, felled by the Hero of River Dane himself… and Alistair got to sit in the kitchen, mouth watering, as all the roasts and fish and fowl were brought back from the great hall, and eat the choicest bits of what was left.  It was all so delicious that it was very easy to ignore the music and laughter spilling in every time the door opened, the clack of the dogs’ nails as they begged for scraps from their masters’ hands.  So easy, in fact, that before he knew it he was being whisked back to the stables, even as he crammed the last savory into his mouth.

Now, of course, the geese are getting fattened for _him_ , and he knows he ought to be pleased, but at the end of the day it’s still leftovers. He’s sitting in his brother’s chair, eating at his brother’s table, sleeping in his brother’s bed, and the only reason he’s there is because of a series of flukes he was assured, over and over again in his youth, would never actually happen.

He supposes he ought to be grateful he dodged the particular arrow of marrying his brother’s wife, for creepy factors alone, but there’s a certain sorrow in his current arrangement, too. It’s not that surprising, after all, that his wife would have fallen for the suave assassin over the bumbling idiot, and Maker knows they’re discreet enough.  If he’s lucky, she might even conceive a child they could pass as his, and for all he knows, it might actually _be_ his. It’s a comforting thought, at least.

If he were a lesser man, he’d rage against it all, but he knows that anger will just destroy the little he has.  He _wants_ her to be happy, after all, and if he can’t make her happy, then why shouldn’t she be with someone who can?

So Alistair rules his kingdom, and loves his queen, and contents himself on the leftovers that make their way to his table.

They’re all he’s ever been good for, anyway.


End file.
